Never So Sure
by chelsie fan
Summary: S6 E1 SPOILERS! Birthday fic for evitamockingbird. Picks up immediately after 6X01.


**A/N This story is a birthday gift for evitamockingbird. It comes with good wishes and warm Chelsie love. Special thanks to brenna-louise for her help with this.**

 **WARNING: SPOILER ALERT! This story picks up right at the end of Episode 6X01, so if you haven't seen it and don't want to be spoiled, then you might want to wait to read this.**

Mr. Carson stood in his pantry, holding his beloved in his arms, delighting in the afterglow of her implied but unmistakable declaration of love and their glorious first kiss. The strains of the music from the celebration in the servants' hall drifted in, and they found themselves swaying together in time with the music. After a moment, a thought occurred to him, and he spoke softly in his beloved's ear. "I am reluctant to end this most sublime moment, when finally I hold you in my arms, but we haven't much privacy here. I've never thought much about the window in my pantry until just this very moment. Before now, I've never done anything in here that I wouldn't want someone else to see. But suddenly, I have an ardent desire to remain unseen. I shouldn't like Mr. Barrow to walk by outside the window and see us like this. Do you think we might go to your sitting room where we won't be observed?"

He was gratified to feel Mrs. Hughes shiver at his words when she spoke into his chest. "Well, we might not be observed there, but we may well be overheard. You _do_ remember the grating on the wall? Of course, with all the excitement and activity going on out there right now, not to mention the music and other noise, I doubt anyone will be listening."

"Hmmm…" thought Mr. Carson. "I _had_ forgotten about that blasted grating. I'm not willing to chance it. I have some very urgent things that I must say to you, and my words are for your ears only. Perhaps we can first speak here, where we won't be heard, and then slip off to your sitting room, where we won't be seen."

"All right," agreed Mrs. Hughes, withdrawing slightly from his embrace to look at him. "What have you to say that's so precious?"

"Plenty. And it's long overdue. I should have said it ages ago."

He relinquished his hold on her but took her hand and led her to sit in one of his armchairs. He pulled the other closer and seated himself in it; then he grasped her hand again, looking earnestly at her.

The words that had come with such difficulty in speaking to Mrs. Patmore now tumbled forth freely from his mouth. "I'm sorry, love, that I never told you how very much I love you – that you doubted the nature of my devotion and had to enlist Mrs. Patmore to divine my true intentions. I regret that I've waited this long to tell you how remarkably, _strikingly_ lovely you are and how ridiculously proud I am that you have accepted me. I am desperately, blissfully, and passionately in love with you. I'd always thought I'd been painfully obvious with my affections. I'd been certain I'd worn my heart on my sleeve. And you, of all people, know me better that I know myself. I would have thought you'd perceived my love long before I'd discovered it myself. Could you not see how my hands trembled and my face flushed whenever you were near? Could you not hear how my breath caught and my voice faltered every time you looked at me? Did you really not know?"

The tears in her eyes tore his heart open and then instantly stitched it back up. He wanted so badly to hold her again, but he remembered the window. He settled for cupping her cheeks and wiping her tears with his thumbs.

"I suppose I'd thought you _might_ ," she admitted. "I'd desperately hoped, of course. And when you finally proposed, I truly believed it. You made me so happy! But then … you never told me you loved me … or kissed me … or held me … or even touched me. You wouldn't call me Elsie. And well … I wondered if I'd got it all wrong."

"Oh, my darling! Forgive me. I'm trying. I've never been in love before. Not properly, at least. Not like this. I'm still working out how to go about it. Be patient with me, I beg you. I hate that I caused you even a moment's anguish. I want to make you happy, and I vow to spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt me. So let me tell you right now, unequivocally, emphatically, and truthfully … " He turned towards her more fully, moved closer, and took both her hands in his. "When I asked you to marry me, I wasn't asking you to be my friend or my companion. You are already both. I want you to be … _more_. I love you … _Elsie_. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You do 'please' me – _as you are now_ and _always_ – and you could never be a 'disappointment.' You see, after I proposed and you accepted, all was right with my world. I'd never been happier. But then I noticed you were troubled. You didn't want to fix a date, and then Mrs. Patmore came to me and spoke of your concerns. I was so afraid you'd changed your mind! I thought _I'd_ got it all wrong!" Now his own tears broke free, and he choked back a sob.

"Oh, my Charles! I love you, too, you daft man! I'm afraid I'm too overcome to be as eloquent as _you've_ just been. But I want to be married as soon as possible. I refuse to wait any longer than we absolutely must. Shall we visit Mr. Travis tomorrow?" Her words were full of love and certainty and eagerness.

Words failed Mr. Carson, and so he simply beamed at Mrs. Hughes with a broad smile and watery eyes and nodded. Realizing that they'd now said all that needed to be said for the moment and that the time for talking had passed, he managed to eke out the only words that mattered. "I think perhaps it's time to relocate to your sitting room, don't you agree? I need to kiss you again. At once."

In answer, she stood and let him lead her away. When he opened his door and they stepped out into the corridor, he did not release her hand, but instead he squeezed it tighter. She looked up in surprise and delight. As if in answer to her unspoken question, he smiled and explained, while leaning in close so she could hear him over the din from the nearby party. "While I don't wish for anyone to find us in a compromising position, I don't mind a bit if the whole world sees me holding your hand or kissing your cheek. I want everyone to know how much I love my bride-to-be." And to give substance to his words, he brushed his lips softly over her cheek.

"Everything all right, then, you two?" called Mrs. Patmore, who had appeared from nowhere and was now standing just down the corridor.

"Oh! Hello, Mrs. Patmore. We didn't notice you there," said Mrs. Hughes.

"No, I should think you wouldn't, just now. I take it all is well now?"

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore. Everything is utterly perfect now," Mr. Carson assured her, beaming with glee. "And we thank you for your concern and for your recent efforts on our behalf."

"Well, then, that _is_ good news," replied the cook. "I am happy for you both. Now run along. I'll keep an eye on the festivities. You must have much to discuss. I believe there's a wedding to plan." And with that, Mrs. Patmore disappeared and returned to the merry-making.

No sooner had the couple entered the housekeeper's sitting room than Mr. Carson swept Mrs. Hughes into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. She responded enthusiastically but was left breathless and weak-kneed. When she reclaimed the powers of thought and speech, she whispered, "I've just thought of something. Just as it would never do to be overheard, a prolonged silence would be equally suspicious. If people know we're in here but they hear _nothing_ , not even muffled voices or scraping chairs or clinking wine glasses … Well, they might think … "

"What are you suggesting?" Mr. Carson murmured back. He looked confused.

"We shall need to speak occasionally," Mrs. Hughes pointed out sensibly. "About innocuous, mundane subjects."

"Right," agreed Mr. Carson with a knowing nod. Speaking entirely too loudly, he asked, "And the menus for next week?"

Mrs. Hughes couldn't help giggling softly. Her man had never been destined for subterfuge! "Oh, it's all in order," she responded, sounding calm enough, though feeling far from calm as he nuzzled her cheek and burrowed his face in her neck. "And you've chosen the wines?" she continued. She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingernails through the short hairs at the back of his head, lightly scratching and tickling his scalp and eliciting a low rumble of pleasure from him.

"Wines?" he asked. "Oh, yes … wines. Mmm-hmmm. They're all sorted. I've chosen them, and his lordship has approved."

Mr. Carson sat down in the nearest chair and drew her into his lap. She complied willingly. They continued their "conversation," as well and their kissing and caressing. Soft sighs, whimpers, and moans were interspersed with talk of household business, most of it fictitious. Mrs. Hughes found it difficult to keep up a coherent conversation while her intended was lavishing his affections on her and while she was trying to return his devotions, so she said whatever came to mind – random snippets, not sensible at all, but just enough to be convincing should anyone happen to be near the other side of the grating in her wall: "linen rota … silver polish, candlesticks … china and crystal … number of guests arriving … speak to the grocer … wine delivery … "

An hour later, when the amorous pair emerged from the room, the servants' hall was silent and empty; the noise had dissipated, and the revelers had all vanished. True to her word, Mrs. Patmore had taken care of everything. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes made their way to the stairs. Before they parted for the night, with no one else near, they were finally able to embrace and to speak freely at the same time.

"You've made me the happiest, proudest man alive, Elsie, and I cannot wait to make you my wife," said Mr. Carson. "I love you more than I can say."

"I love you, too, Charles, and I find myself quite impatient to be Mrs. Carson," Mrs. Hughes replied.

He rested his hands at her waist, and she laid hers on his chest. He bent down, and she stretched up, and they met for one, last, tender kiss.

"Good night, my love," he whispered.

"Good night, my dear," she answered. "I'll see you in the morning, and we'll call on the vicar."

They drew apart, and he kissed her hand before they parted.

Neither noticed Mrs. Patmore, who had just been leaving the darkened kitchen as the couple walked by, who had vanished back into the shadows to afford them some privacy, and who had unintentionally witnessed and overheard the whole exchange. The cook decided that whatever discomfort she'd endured in her conversations with Mr. Carson was a small price to pay for the joy she'd just witnessed, and she vowed to do whatever else she could to ensure her friends' continued happiness.

 **A/N Please leave a review if you can spare a moment. And be sure to send evitamockingbird some birthday greetings. Thanks!**


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